She never said anything,
He never tried.
Cupid sat by twiddling his thumbs-
Watched them as the flutterings died.
Her heart belonged to someone else,
His belonged to a dozen or more.
Theirs was an ode to the Grecian Urn-
The stuff of legend and lore.
And sitting by Cupid, as this cruel infinite gestation witnessed I-
They danced a merry dance, no tears to cry.
Oh! The futility of penning down lines about star-crossed lovers-
God’s own game of chess divine.
They met, they wished, they parted-
Landed on their stiff reality, and I on mine.